New Release: Immortal Winter by N. R. Larry and Margo Bond Collins

Jayla Storm woke up next to a dead body, with no memory of how it got there. Then Kip Stanton blew up her ice tower—the only home she’s ever known—and kidnapped her, insisting it was for her own good.

ow she's stuck with a group of rebels hell-bent on usurping the queen who saved Jayla's life. As her memories resurface, she's afraid to trust anyone, even while her feelings for Kip grow stronger.

But wherever Jayla goes, the monstrous ravagers follow. If she's going to survive, and perhaps save Kip and the others, she'll have to learn to trust someone—maybe especially herself.

Immortal Winter, a stand-alone dystopian paranormal romance

by New York Times bestselling authors N.R. Larry and Margo Bond Collins

Excerpt:

I woke in my ice tower, covered in a coating of
sweat, lying next to a dead body.

With a gasp, I scrambled back against the
headboard of my own bed. Other than the motionless figure beside me, nothing
around me had changed, though it was tinted yellow from the flickering
lanterns.

Arina’s
dead body?

I’d never seen a corpse. Not a real one. I eyed
the spike sticking out of her forehead and the odd snarl twisting her open
mouth. My head swam and I swallowed convulsively.

I knew I needed to act, but all I could manage to do
was let Arina continue to bleed out—onto the sheets and onto me. I should have
been screaming. I should have been throwing myself off the bed and toward the
window. But I didn’t, anchored in place by fire and sweat and blood.

I tried to connect the scene in front of me to
some memory, something that swam barely out of reach. I stretched after it,
catching a fragment: yesterday was Arina's day. The day I wouldn't be alone.

A
pain day.

I looked forward to those. That much I knew.

Forcing myself to sit up, I scooted away from her
still form, my jaw clenched with the memory of pain. I would have laughed at
what lingered but there was a body to
attend to. Stumbling out of bed, I stepped out of my clothes and limped toward
my ivory dresser. On the way, my feet grazed against something rough. Some
imperfection in the ice. Something that wasn’t there before.

I backed up and stared down at the message
scratched into the ice, blood swiped across it to highlight the letters, like
ink rubbed on a seal impression to darken the image.

She
found me. She knows. Went to warn them. Don’t take the infusions. Watch out for
Kip.